


Escape With Me, Into A Fantasy

by flipflop_diva



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Dubious Consent, F/F, Power Play
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-03-03
Updated: 2013-03-03
Packaged: 2017-12-04 05:58:27
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,563
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/707321
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/flipflop_diva/pseuds/flipflop_diva
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Pansy was just looking to have some fun. Hermione was just her play thing. But sometimes things don't go according to plan. Set in an AU world after the war. Contains explicit sex, dub-con, hints of a D/S & power play relationship, hints to past abuse & torture.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Escape With Me, Into A Fantasy

**Author's Note:**

> Originally written for the darkwitches fest in fall 2012 on livejournal. Thank you to thusspakekate for her great prompts. And a huge thank you to F for not only being exceedingly patient with me but for also beta’ing this for me, too.

“You have such a pretty mouth.” She traced a circle around the other girl’s puckered lips with the tip of her finger. “I wish you would smile more.”

She let her fingers drop, slide down the other’s girl face, under her chin, down her neck, until she came to the buttons of her shirt. With a flick of her wand, held loosely in her other hand, the buttons of the other girl’s blouse flew open, revealing a shabby black bra, hiding petite little breasts.

“Do we have to do this now?” The other girl spoke, her voice faint, timid.

Pansy shook her head. So unbelievable.

“You wanted this,” Pansy scolded. “Remember? You asked for me?”

Hermione lowered her eyes to the ground, dropped her head. “Yes, I did.”

Pansy could barely hear her.

“Please speak louder,” she commanded. 

“I said, ‘Yes, I did,’” Hermione said again, her voice slightly louder this time.

“Okay, then. So why would I stop now?”

“I just …”

“That was a rhetorical question, Granger.”

“But I just …”

Pansy pressed her finger to Hermione’s lips, effectively silencing her.

“Don’t pretend you don’t like it,” she said. “Now, where were we?”

Hermione didn’t answer. Pansy saw her shoulders droop, but she ignored that. She returned her attention to what she was doing before.

She pointed her wand at Hermione’s bosom, uttered a few words. The brassiere sprung open. Pansy waited as Hermione slowly reached up and pulled the straps down her arms, letting the garment float to the floor.

Pansy next pointed her wand at Hermione’s skirt. The noise of a zipper unzipping sounded in the quiet room and then her skirt fell to a puddle at her feet.

Pansy put her wand aside. This part she liked to do on her own.

She reached out, smoothed her palm over Hermione’s stomach. The scars were as visible as always, even in the dim lighting of the room, red and raw and painful looking. Pansy traced her fingers over them, hearing Hermione wince.

Pansy hurriedly moved on, dropping her hands down to the other girl’s thighs. Quickly, she slipped three fingers between Hermione’s legs, felt a bit of dampness through the black cotton. 

“You’re wet,” Pansy said, dropping her voice to a husky whisper. “You are so wet. And you wanted to not do this!”

Hermione flushed, moved her legs together slightly.

Pansy laughed, moved her hands to the waistband of Hermione’s knickers and slowly dragged them down her legs. Painfully slowly, letting Hermione get the full effect of losing her clothes.

Once Hermione’s knickers had hit the floor, Pansy stood. She put her hands on Hermione’s shoulders, pushed her backward, waiting till the back of Hermione’s legs hit the edge of the bed. Pansy pushed her again, causing her to fall haphazardly on to her back on the bed, her legs spreading as she landed.

Pansy laughed, dropped to her knees.

“This will be good,” she said, before she pushed Hermione’s legs even further apart, making sure to give herself a good view as she positioned herself between them.

This was Pansy’s favorite part. Spreading Hermione out, looking at her, making her wait. She tested Hermione’s readiness with her tongue, tasting the other girl with the lightest touch she could manage. Hermione’s musky scent filled all of Pansy’s senses.

Pansy licked her again. Hermione moaned. Pansy laughed. She loved the feeling of being in control, of being able to do whatever she wanted. She especially loved hearing the other girl’s halfhearted protests turn into full moans of approval.

Although today was turning out a little differently. For some reason, Hermione wasn’t protesting anymore. She was instead just lying there, her eyes almost blank. 

Pansy pretended not to notice the lack of protestation. She slipped two fingers inside Hermione, thrust as hard as she could, quickly bringing the other girl to the edge.

She waited until Hermione was moaning steadily, her hips rocking urgently against Pansy’s hand, her juices dripping down Pansy’s arm and Hermione’s legs. Then, and only then, did Pansy wrap her lips around the other girl’s clit, slip in a third finger and twist her hand the way she had discovered did the trick. Then she kept going as she felt the other girl fall apart below her.

When Hermione’s muscle spasms had slowed, Pansy sat back. She had done it again. She glanced up at the other girl, expecting to see the timid smile she usually saw. Instead, what she saw made her breath catch.

Rivulets of tears dripped down Hermione’s face as Hermione’s brown eyes stared desperately at Pansy.

“I can’t do this anymore,” she whimpered, her voice breaking. “I can’t.”

 

•••

**[Six months earlier]**

“You’re doing it wrong.” Pansy’s voice, cold and steel-like, cut across the room. The other girl started, let out a cry, scrambled to grab the blankets.

But Pansy was faster. Her wand was already out.

“ _Accio_ blankets.”

She sneered as she caught them, dropped them behind her, watching as Granger desperately tried to cover herself with her hands, but there wasn’t much she could do.

Pansy could see the brown hair at the apex of her legs — a little shaggy. Nothing a good trim wouldn’t hurt — could see her small, rounded breasts, her pale pink nipples. In the dim lighting of the room, her white skin seemed almost translucent. 

Pansy took a step closer.

“You were doing it all wrong,” she repeated.

“What are you doing in here?” Granger’s voice came out firm, confident, but the flush spreading across her chest and her face belied her true feelings as did the way she pulled her legs up to her chest. Pansy took another step closer.

“I’m the Head Girl of this facility,” she said. “Don’t tell me you’ve forgotten that.”

Granger glared. “That doesn’t mean you can just barge into my room whenever you want.”

“Oh,” Pansy said, moving one more step closer. She was now pressed against the bed. “But it does mean that.”

She reached out suddenly, grabbed Granger’s leg, pulled her by the ankle to bring her closer to her.

Granger tried to pull away, but Pansy dug her fingernails into her flesh.

“I think it’s time for you to learn the correct way,” Pansy told her. “You’re never going to get yourself off like that. All timid and crap. That boyfriend of yours probably never showed you a good time, did he? Well, don’t worry. _I_ have never been accused of leaving someone hanging.”

Pansy took a few seconds, studied the naked, trembling girl in front of her. Granger was still feigning anger, but Pansy could see it in her eyes — a mix of fear and curiosity, like she was just waiting to see what Pansy would do.

Pansy got to work. She grabbed Granger’s other leg, pulled her down to the end of the bed so her ass was right at the edge. She shoved Granger’s legs apart, then knelt on the floor between them. She took a moment to study the other girl's cunt, then reached out, pressing her fingers between Granger’s legs.

She shook her head sadly at what she found.

“The first problem,” Pansy announced, “is you need to be _much_ wetter than this.”

She watched as Granger flushed again, her face almost a dark red by now. She tried to twist away, but Pansy was prepared. 

She grabbed Granger’s thighs, held her in place, waited until the other girl stopped struggling. Then Pansy placed her own fingers in her mouth, licking and sucking at them.

Once they were thoroughly wet, she returned her hand to between Granger’s legs. She began moving her fingers, sliding them through Granger’s folds, alternating her touches between soft and gentle and fast and hard. Granger tried to struggle a couple more times, but the attempts were feeble. Soon, she was just lying limp under Pansy’s hands.

Pansy traced her eyes up Granger’s body, stopping as she stared at her stomach. A series of scars crisscrossed her flesh.

Pansy looked up, met Granger’s eyes, opened her mouth to speak.

“No.” Granger’s voice was strong, firm. “No,” she repeated. Unlike her previous protests, Pansy could tell she meant this one. 

Pansy shrugged. “Whatever,” she said, then she nodded at Granger’s hands that were now in fists beside her body.

“Play with your nipples,” Pansy ordered.

Granger flushed again. “No,” she said, but the firm tone of before had faded drastically. “I don’t have …”

“Play with them!” Pansy ordered her again, louder this time. As though to emphasize her point, she decided to stop waiting and shoved a finger inside Granger’s body.

“Oh!” Granger let out a cry.

“Play with them,” Pansy ordered. “And I’ll continue.”

She waited a few moments, her finger buried inside Granger’s body. She could see the struggle on the other girl’s face before Granger slowly unclenched her hands.

With a dejected moan, Granger then moved her hands to her nipples, slowly beginning to rub at them with the index finger of each hand. Pansy watched as both nipples began to harden under the touch.

“Acceptable,” she said. “Although you might want to try rolling them between your fingers.”

Pansy kept her eyes on Granger’s hands, making sure she continued to do as she was told, but as Granger began rolling her nipples between her fingers, Pansy began moving her own finger, this time sliding it in and out of the other girl, feeling it become wetter at every thrust.

She smirked as she pulled her finger out of Granger, spread her wetness across her folds.

Granger moaned. Pansy repeated her actions, this time using two fingers. 

Granger moaned again, but she didn’t move.

“Oh, for Merlin’s sake, Granger,” Pansy snarled. “Don’t be so rigid. Let yourself enjoy it.”

Pansy reached out, pinched Granger’s clit, hard, between her fingers, let her nails dig in slightly to the sensitive flesh.

Granger yelped, but her hips bucked upward.

“Yes,” Pansy said. “Just like that. Now let’s try this again.”

She shoved her fingers back inside Granger, using three this time.

Granger cried out again, her back arching. 

“Better,” Pansy said, and she began moving her fingers, hard and forceful.

Granger’s hands stilled on her bosom, but her pelvis was still moving. Her eyes closed as her head tilted back, her mouth opening slightly, her breath becoming shorter and quicker. Pansy kept her fingers going, applying just the right amount of pressure. She could see the muscles in Granger’s legs begin to tense, her toes begin to curl.

Finally, Pansy stilled. Granger’s eyes flashed open. Pansy could see the need deep within her orbs.

“Please,” Granger mouthed.

And that was all Pansy needed. She twisted her fingers, pinched Granger’s clit with her other hand, and then sat back and watched as Granger convulsed around her with a moan.

It was a rather glorious sight. Watching the always put-together Granger coming undone, her naked body flushed pink, her cunt spilling liquid onto the mattress and down on to the floor.

Pansy waited until Granger was done before removing her fingers.

Granger was staring at her with a look she couldn’t decipher.

“That wasn’t bad,” Pansy said. “But certainly not great.”

Pansy stood, stooping to pick up the blankets in a heap on the floor. “I think I’ll keep these,” she announced. She turned to go.

Granger’s voice stopped her. 

“I’ve never …. I’ve never done …”

Pansy whirled around, another smirk gracing her face. “You’ve never had an orgasm before?” she laughed, and then her own mouth opened in an even wider O as she realized what the look on Granger’s face meant.

“Oh, you’ve never had sex before!” Pansy laughed delightedly as Granger flushed once more.

“Deflowering Granger,” Pansy mused. “Who would’ve thought?” And she walked out of Granger’s room, the blankets nestled in her hands.

•••

It was only supposed to be a one-time thing. Because Pansy was bored and she hated this stupid school and what was the point of any of it unless she at least got to torture some Mudbloods?

She’d thought the Death Eaters seizing control after Voldermort’s defeat would be a good thing, but so far, she was just bored. All the boys her age were off being trained for Merlin knows what, and she was stuck at a school with a bunch of girls she didn’t like. 

At least she was in control, had been given the power to hand out punishments and the like.

Walking in on Granger had been an accident. Not the walking in part. Pansy had been given permission to walk in on anyone she wanted, and she took that to heart.

Again, she was bored. What else were she to do?

But she had never expected to walk in on Granger trying — and failing — to masturbate. But when she had, she couldn’t help herself. Something she couldn’t explain had her helping the other girl out. And that something she couldn’t explain had her thinking about it for days after. The way Granger had felt as her muscles had clamped around Pansy’s fingers, the way her skin had flushed with arousal, the look on her face as she reached her climax.

Pansy hated herself for reliving the moments, yet she found herself unable to think of anything else. 

Still, it was just sex. That’s what she told herself anyway. 

The second time it happened — a little less on accident than the first time — was in the school bathroom. Pansy had seen Granger slip in there, bided her time and then barged in. Sure enough, Granger was in the tub, her back arched, her nipples just sticking out of the water enough that Pansy could see how hard they were already.

Granger had protested. “You can’t keep doing this!” and had looked frantically around for her wand, but Pansy had just laughed and drained the water in the tub, leaving the other girl completely exposed except for some tiny bubbles.

She’d made her stand for this one, running her hands between her legs, shoving her fingers inside. 

It hadn’t taken long, and Granger had slid to a heap on the floor, shaking and panting, as soon as Pansy pulled her hand out.

The third time was in a classroom. They had been the only two left, everyone else and the professor having headed off to lunch. Pansy made her bend over a table, flip her skirt up, drop her knickers and learn how it felt to have a wand inserted into her ass.

Granger had liked it. She came harder than she had the other two times.

The fourth time Granger actually came to Pansy, knocked on her door in the dead of night.

Pansy let her in, staring her up and down.

Granger was dressed in her robe, but as she lifted it over her head, Pansy saw she was completely naked beneath it.

“Don’t use your fingers this time,” Granger had breathed as she’d stood completely naked in the center of Pansy’s room.

“Ask nicely,” Pansy had ordered, still surprised by this turn of events, but even in her surprise, not ready to give up control.

“Will you please not use your fingers this time?” Granger asked. 

Pansy pointed. “Get on the bed,” she said. “Spread yourself out.”

Granger complied, climbing onto the bed, spreading her legs, using her fingers to push her folds to the side, allowing Pansy better access to her hole.

It was the first time Pansy had used her tongue on her. She had tasted her before, of course, but never to this extent.

She found herself running her tongue up and down Granger’s slit, pressing it flat against her clit, then tracing it back down, sucking up her wetness. Pansy plunged her tongue inside, feeling Granger instantly clench around her.

It didn’t take long. In fact, it took so little time, Pansy made her come three times before she ordered her back to her room, shoving her out the door without giving her time to put her robe back on.

But still Hermione kept coming back — somewhere in the scope of time this had been happening, she had gone from being Granger in Pansy’s mind to being Hermione — and Pansy kept looking for her.

It would be a nod, or a smirk, or a gesture, from either of them, and they would find themselves in a bedroom or a bathroom or a classroom, getting each other off. After the first time in Pansy’s bedroom, she had decided Hermione had progressed enough that it was time for her to give back.

Hermione was a slow learner. Pansy was so bored the first few times she almost fell asleep, and the third time, she ended up with a fistful of brown hair from tugging at Hermione’s head so often. How else was she ever to learn if Pansy didn’t direct her?

But finally, Hermione began to show progress, and Pansy, for her part, became more adventurous. Nipple clamps, Muggle vibrators, handcuffs. Fucking her in a school closet and under the table at lunch. Every day was a new game to play with Hermione.

Pansy told herself it was for the thrill, for something to do in this boring place. Hermione was just someone to play with. Pansy would have been happy with anyone, though truth be told, she loved that it was Hermione. The know-it-all who knew everything didn’t know anything about this. Pansy loved that. She loved being the one with the knowledge, the one who knew the answers, who knew how to make the other girl scream. For once, she was the smart one.

So, yeah, that’s why she did it. She was bored, it was thrilling and it made her feel good.

Now, Pansy sensed for Hermione it was more than that, some sort of escape, something to do with the scars on her stomach — Pansy had heard the rumors that she had been repeatedly tortured by Lucius Malfoy and Bellatrix Lestrange. Pansy herself had even heard the screams that echoed through the school at night. Night terrors, others had whispered — but Pansy told herself she didn’t care enough to ask.

It was sex, pure and simple.

•••

**[Present time]**

It was just sex. That’s what Pansy repeated to herself now as she watched Hermione cry, droplets of water coursing down the other girl’s cheeks.

It was just sex, she repeated a few minutes later when she somehow, mysteriously, found herself cradling the other girl, stroking her hair.

“I can’t do this anymore,” Hermione whispered miserably into Pansy’s chest.

“Have sex?” Pansy asked.

Hermione didn’t answer.

“It’s just sex,” Pansy said, as nonchalantly as she could.

“It’s not,” Hermione whispered, and Pansy found she couldn’t bring herself to ask Hermione to clarify. 

“Is this about your scars?” Pansy couldn’t help herself. She reached out, stroked her fingers across Hermione’s stomach, felt the rough and ragged skin beneath her.

Hermione whimpered. Pansy took that as a yes.

“It’s just sex,” Pansy repeated. “People use sex to forget their problems all the time.”

“It’s not working,” Hermione said.

“Maybe we should try harder.”

“Maybe we should stop.”

“Do you really want to stop?”

Hermione didn’t answer.

Against her better judgment, Pansy sighed and heard herself ask, “Maybe you could tell me what’s going on. Maybe I could fix it.”

“You can’t fix it.”

“Maybe you could tell me what’s going on anyway. Tell me what happened.”

“It was horrible.”

Pansy shrugged. “It can’t be that horrible.”

Hermione pulled back. There was a haunted look in her eyes, as though she had been through a fate worse than death and had somehow lived not only to tell the tale but to relive it every night.

“What did they do to you?” Pansy found herself asking.

“Nothing you can fix.”

“I could try.”

“Really? You could try?” For the first time all night, Hermione’s voice had an edge to it, and she pulled away from Pansy. “You could try to make me forget how I was tortured every day and every night for a month? How they carved into my skin and burned me with their wands? How they tied me up and made me hang naked from a post, for all of their friends to see and laugh at? How they shot spell after spell at me, laughing the whole time? You think you can fix that? That having sex is going to fix that? Because I thought it was, but I was wrong. I was so wrong!”

Pansy blinked. She stared in bewilderment at the girl in front of her. 

“I think you should go,” Hermione said finally.

“But …” This time Pansy was the one protesting.

“No, you should go.” Hermione turned her head, stared at the other wall. “This is done.”

Pansy was stunned. She still couldn’t adjust to everything Hermione had told her. She wanted to argue, to fight back, to shake some sense into the other girl. After all, Pansy always argued. She always won. But somehow, this time, the look on Hermione’s face stopped her. 

Instead, she found herself nodding as she slipped out of bed. She headed to the door, careful not to look behind her.

She scolded herself as she walked, ignoring the feeling in the pit of her stomach that was screaming at her not to leave.

But she left anyway. 

Because what did she care? It was only sex after all.


End file.
